Weekend Fiction Club
Prompt: Something that bothers you.
The scene: the front seat of a 2003 Mercury Marquis
The cast: Harry and Lillian, a senior couple out for a drive.
Lillian: Your directional signal doesn’t seem to be working.
Harry: Thanks, Lil. That’s the passenger seat you are sitting in, not the executive driver position.
Lillian: Use your hand signals.
Harry: The only hand signal these bozos know is the middle finger.
Lillian: Sure, because you show it to them all the time. You’ve really become very hostile to your fellow drivers, Harry.
Harry: That’s because I hate them all. They really bother me.
(Harry slows down, rolls down his window, and sticks his arm out to signal a left turn. A car passes on the left with horn blaring.)
Harry: Jesus H. Christ, Lil, another inch and he would have taken my arm off! In whatever Iron Curtain country he's from, that's probably an obscene gesture. Up your Wazoonik, comrade, you dirty commie bastard!
Lillian: You’re not the only one who knows how to drive, Harry. You should let me drive, if it bothers you so much.
Harry: I want to get there today, not next week.
Lillian: What’s the big hurry to get to Sam’s Club? We still have two pallets of toilet paper in the garage.
Harry: Look at this old fart ahead of us doing twenty-five. Jesus H, his kids should ground him. He’s a hazard to navigation. What? You practicing for your funeral procession? Move it!
Lillian: I spoke to Arthur the other day, Harry, and the kids think you should stop driving.
Harry: Yeah, like they’re going to drive us places. As Chuck Heston said, they will have to pry my keys out of my cold dead hand.
Lillian: He was talking about his gun, dear. The kids worry. You have cataracts. You have glaucoma. You have irritable male syndrome.
Harry: I wish I had a gun right now, and I don’t have irritable male syndrome
(Harry slams on the brakes and hits the horn as a car pulls out of a side street right in front of them.)
Harry: Jesus H, did you see that? She almost kills us and she waves at me!
Lillian: Unlike some people, at least she was polite.
Harry: When did they start selling driver’s licenses on the internet? In our day,we had to read a manual and take a test. Driving was a privilege, not a right. Today, nobody knows how to drive. It’s all about them! They own the goddamn road! Nobody looks out for the other guy! They’re on their cell phones, their texting, they’re downloading, they’re drinking, they're talking foreign languages, they’re shooting drugs, they’re whacking off and having oral sex… anything, but driving! Nobody is paying attention! Keeping their minds on what they are doing! Following safe procedures! Fuck em! Fuck em all, Lil.
Lillian: Yes, dear.
Harry: Oh, now look! That big SUV is right on our bumper flashing his lights at us. Big car, little dick, that’s what I always say.
Lillian: No, Harry, it’s a policeman. You missed that stop sign back there.